At his best, he’s always been an absolute singular and transcendent vocalist, among the most powerful, transfixing, transcendent singers of all time. That means even this muddled sort-of tribute, sort-of celebration, sort-of Jimmy Scott album still manages to remind us of that fact, and pull at our heartstrings.

The effect is decently entertaining, but it should impress you that musicians with 20-plus years are willing to keep taking risks in their artistic journey.

Even the most open-minded hip-hop heads might dismiss it simply based on Keith’s age and inconsistency over the past few years. But there are still shades of brilliance throughout, both in the raps and Kurt’s spacey production, so this one deserves at least a couple of spins before you look elsewhere.

It’s a growth record, and it shows Penguin Café coming into their own. It’s a beginning, but it’s imperfect.

Basically, when the Boxmasters stick to a country format with Bud’s baritone nestled in its ideal range, they succeed. The band drifting too far away from its comfort zone results in somewhat boring, grating musical moments.

As a whole, Spooky Action feels like a mostly great demo: In many ways, we've heard all these songs before, in slightly tighter fashion, on the last two Deerhunter albums.

Control finds Bazan wallowing so completely in the dark side of the human psyche that it becomes stifling after awhile.

Although heavy in pretty atmosphere, Savage Imagination often lacks immediacy; this problem might be resolvable through live improvisation.

Putting the lack of uniqueness aside, though, Drifter is a good album for Heartsounds, and it makes sense as the next step in their development as a band.

At the same time that Green has perfected the easy-listening, lazy-day ballad on Jacket Full of Danger, he’s also taken the theatrical, showbiz style of Gemstones to the next level.

Diluvia is an album that requires time and attention, but is ultimately worth every listen.

Overall, Owen's Ghost Town plays like a well-crafted folk/pop atmospheric album, reminiscent of artists who do maudlin atmosphere better, such as Mark Kozelek, or Iron & Wine.

Although Allison had a particular vision for the project, it's tempting to wonder how much tighter the final product would've felt had it been put through a more rigorous edit.

There’s no question Costa has progressed since his first EP. But as he ventures on his musical journey through the past, he might want to look at the albums of the 1960s icons he so admires and think about if their "progress" improved their music or diluted it.

Yes, you have to love Dawes for doing it the old fashioned way, trends and hipster cred be damned. But, sonically at least, it may be time to put a few bumps in the road.

While the remaining six tracks are neither as catchy nor polished as the title track, they offer some worthwhile lyrical content and musical twists, more subtly evoking the rustic desolation the group aims for.

Her partnership with Union Station has been a fruitful one, in its way, but after giving us glimpses of more, she's also made us expect more. Paper Airplane is sufficient, but doesn't ever slip the bonds imposed upon it.

The first half of Cosy Moments may pale placed next to Alpine Static, but for those who may be put off by that album’s sprawl and punch, Cosy Moments prolongs the slightly gentler, less fuzzy nature of this restless sonic beast.

Hinterland’s whole existence seems to be balancing conflicting interests: to be abstract/direct, about feelings/ideas, of genre/not tied to any genre. You can hear that conflict in their sound. It is their sound.

There is nothing here that is going to cross over to the mainstream, and individually, the tracks aren’t even all that interesting, save perhaps for Le1f’s moment early on. The context provided by listening to the album all the way through is what saves it, what gives it a point of view.

Everything from the synth work to the drum tracks sound the same, and this, on top of the fact that Emika’s vocal delivery rarely changes, makes the album slightly (but only slightly) disappointing.

Wild Pendulum’s flaws are admirable ones, the result of ambition more than apathy. Furthermore, the lush ornamental arrangements on these songs do little to disguise the effortlessly toe-tapping melodies that permeate each piece of music.

There is enough good stuff on here to satisfy Prefuse 73 fans who’ve waited patiently since 2011 for a new full length.

At a hair under 60 minutes long, You Have Already Gone to the Other World is daunting by nature of its sheer length, let alone its impenetrable subject material.

Alpocalypse may not be his strongest record, but it does what only Weird Al Yankovic can do, and he's been doing for nearly 30 years now, so he must be doing something right.

What the World Needs Now… still has punch and variety.

Avi Buffalo have achieved this in theory, but the product is a mostly unremarkable follow-up to a promising debut.

It’s a mixed bag. Bundick is trying on a little bit of everything with Les Sins, perfecting nothing but never quite failing either.

There are glimpses of risk here and there on City Sun Eater but a few more curveballs could really be the remedy that brings home a larger reward.

If you’re looking for the daring next step in Asobi Seksu’s sonic evolution, this is not it. Instead, Rewolf is nothing more ambitious than a very good album of acoustic renderings.

The 2011 album this most resembles is funk-rock guitarist Dennis Coffey's self-titled comeback album--a bunch of pretty good soul workouts with lots of guests, some filler, and just enough personality to get by.

Though not a stand-out EP, James Blake is to be commended for attempting the path of the latter.

We Bought a Zoo is good enough to quench our thirst for either a new Jónsi or Sigur Rós album.

A pair of great songs open the record. If the rest of the album can’t quite live up to their quality, it’s not that much of a let-down. Just listen to the start again.

While the New Kids are definitely capable of making a great album (seriously...if you’re an R&B or pop fan, go to a used record store or half.com and pick up a copy of 1994’s "Face the Music"--you’ll be very pleasantly surprised), this album is only great in spots.

A 12 song pop rock record aimed at pleasing your overzealous ex-girlfriend from college more than, say, the girl you finally deemed cool enough to settle down with.

There are memorable riffs and lyrics throughout this album, but nearly all of the vocal melodies fall curiously flat. This cuts down a lot on the catchiness of the songs and makes the whole package slightly less memorable.

Evinspacey has enough original and interesting grooves to provide pleasant entertainment for the tape-looping gadgets.

The 19-song set is well-paced and there’s less of the bloat—mostly overlong guitar soloing—that made for tedious moments on previous tours. But with the Stones’ expansive catalog, why always the same selections?

Fittingly for an album whose most-uttered word is "whoa," they seem perpetually awed by their good fortune and the beauty of whoever happens to be standing nearby.

Unfortunately, despite the tightness of this trio's musical interplay, 13.0.0.0.0 overall suffers from a homogenous sound.

In their multi-ethnic make-up, the face-painted, twenty-something strong Allstars chant a slightly more devolved game than fellow marimba manglers Konono No.1, but the cumulative effect is similar, a sustained concussion of sound, a kind of sonic vertigo that subverts the cliché of Congo as perpetual victim.

For all its strengths, though, Kingdom of Rust also leaves us with the uneasy feeling that Doves are starting to feel more comfortable with the idea of merely staying the course instead of exploring bolder ideas.

That one caveat aside, Harbors is an intricate and catchy set of songs, one that truly earns the name "album" with its cohesion and skillful movement. Rarely does music this meticulous also sound so effortless and, more importantly, so damned joyful.

Serpentine Prison may not be perfect, but it allows us a new look at a very familiar voice, and for Berninger to achieve that two decades into his career is no small feat.

When Grimes's impeccable production skills are given a chance to shine, the ideas behind Miss Anthropocene's slow-burners begin to come into focus.

It might not reinvent the formula much, but it does refine and sharpen--in its best moments anyway--the nostalgic hiss-pop Presley thrives in.

Sub Pop commendably delivers an anthology from a prime influence on their hometown heroes Mudhoney, and Feedtime's return to the shelves proves timely.

I Wanna Go Back to Detroit City largely plays to his strong suits. Around the album’s halfway point, however, things begin to run off the rails.

The breadth of material is both a curse and a blessing.

Whatever the conceit for releasing only eight songs—perhaps they didn’t have enough material or were just eager to release these particular eight tracks—Keane serves up a concise, competent follow-up to Perfect Symmetry (2008).

Most of the album, though, is artier and moodier than his previous works, from the percolating unease of “Burn Out Blues” to “Get Lost”. At a mere 30 minutes, Mister Mellow is also a notably brief work and feels all the more so for having only five tracks that exceed the three-minute mark.

Their balance of humor and lyrical precision isn't as persistently dope as it was originally, but with one release they've already solidified themselves as one of the better duos in hip-hop, as they should be. I'm really happy about this.

Despite its hype, its expectations, its blown up sound, and its many production flourishes, Bon Iver is nothing more than a solid placeholder album.

Anathema may not be at its most compelling on distant satellites, but what is less than optimal for these artists is still several notches above the rest.

Time's All Gone is single-minded, but this is often good for a debut--better for a young artist to do one thing well then several things in mediocre fashion.

The Beekeeper suffers from too much of the glossy stuff that floats on top, and too little foundation on which to keep itself grounded.

For major label singer-songwriter stuff, not bad. Moore knows her way around hooks.

Sunlight on the Moon is not the best Elf Power record, which would be a tough task for a band with so much great output, but it’s another sign of the band’s lasting sound and continued growth.

There isn’t as much going on with Bankrupt! to rank it among the best albums by Phoenix, but it still works as a solid effort from a band getting used to being big. They’re just doing what they do.

This feels less like a debut album from a promising young MC than another sequel in a very familiar franchise.

The songs as individual pieces work just fine but the collection taken as a whole makes each piece feel more complete within the contextual possibilities. Overall, it's a strange but very solid release.

Ultimately, Game Tested & Street Approved is all about tracks three through eight, with the rest of it meandering through various forms of decent and straight up awful.

It's a return to the band's classic sound, before they went all gooey on Turbo, and sounds like the album fans had originally hoped they would release in 1986, instead of the overproduced party rock record they ended up putting out. This is old school to the core.

Perhaps another period spent in oblivion is just what Williams needs to figure out his next move, or rather, his next image.

Given what a satisfying collection In Living Cover manages to be for the most part, it’s a shame that he chose to end on a couple of bum notes.

The songs across this double album aren’t always particularly memorable, but they feel suffused with the warm glow that obviously accompanied the recording process.

Contraband is a pretty good record of unpretentious rock and roll that suffers from inevitable comparison with the best efforts of its parent bands.

The album fails to suspend disbelief. In the end, Annabel Dream Reader is mere pulp fiction.

Despite the individual quality of almost every song and performance, there’s simply not enough variation of style, rhythm or mood on Like Red on a Rose.

A diverse album is a thing to strive for, but trying to temper the optimism of a luminous, mother-of-pearl record like this by repeating tired ideas culled from the last decade of songwriting is not the way to go about it.

Although Garza and Hilton have still created a cohesive and enjoyable listen, Radio Retaliation could have used some more variety.

Aside from being completely disposable, Heart On isn’t quite a bad album.

Magna Carta... Holy Grail lacks the year-defining singles that made Blueprint 3 evade “flop” status, but it’s undeniably the most cohesive thing Jay’s been a part of since the original Blueprint.

Still Life is a little too still and could use an injection of energy to really spice things up and make the consistency of this output even more memorable than it already is.

Kleyn never insists upon some carefully crafted weirdness. If she is an outlier, it's because her sound was inherently singular, not crafted to be that way.

Even when it runs out of creative juice, Clor gets by on energy and production alone until the juices get flowing again.

For all of the advantageous production choices, Glow comes with a certain stylistic parity that keeps it at bay after the second listen.

Deer Creek Canyon is full of songs to curl up with.

The disc sticks reliably to the formula that found them their rotation on radio, trading fluid and flashy runs from guitarist Travis Stever with Claudio Sanchez’s contagious storyteller swoon.

Better late than never, it's one of the moments when the Vaselines strike the right chord on a somewhat uneven effort, as they show that holding on to fond memories isn't necessarily at odds with making new ones.

This is still a solid debut from a confident pair, one with room to grow into this sound, which is far tighter at its core than some of its gossamer layers might suggest.

If you can overlook the fact that Cannibals With Cutlery is a tad on the long side, you may find a great deal to enjoy and be amused with. Even if that amusement comes solely in playing a game of “spot the influences”, which To Kill a King wear proudly on their collective sleeves.

Overall, Ghost may feel a little too loose, like it resists coming together when it really should. But listening to the overcast minor chords of closer “Bat Lies” proves Trevisan is clearly a voice to pay attention to.

There are too few surprises amid the usual, admittedly fun, rocktronic rave-ups.

Even if you tend to avoid the genre of power-pop like some sort of rare disease, I Can’t Go On... provides an undeniably honest display of some quality rock tunes.

While it is, at times, a challenging listen, there are enough catchy moments to prompt enough listens for the thing to grow on you.

In the wrong atmosphere, Plague Park is redundant and lethargic. But spin Plague Park in the right setting, on your stereo late one night in a dark, empty room, and you may find that its pervasive despondence will mingle with your disappointment, your exhaustion, your heartbreak, and somehow make you feel just a little bit better.

While One Man Mutiny doesn't aspire to reach the heights of the Holy Trinity of Let It Be, Tim or Pleased to Meet Me, the album makes a case for Stinson's songwriting prowess, even if it does feel a bit borrowed throughout his sophomore release.

Maybe kids need these adult-perspective, comparatively more serious songs as a break from the goofiness, but I like Alphabutt most when it’s straight-up silly.

Uneven though sometimes enjoyable, Reincarnated is surprisingly better than expected.

Over half of the album would benefit from a more lived in persona that the twins evade for the majority of their sophomore set.

Despite its strong focus and development, the album still has its weak moments.

AGCT hits its marks without innovating. While cognizant of the times, the album is unable to move beyond its influences.

Yours to Keep may be consistently enjoyable, and eminently listenable, but it’s no Is This It.

EVOL doesn’t stand up to his critical peaks, but this could easily be seen as but a release to tide fans over before the next blockbuster.

While I Had the Blues is a serviceable debut that doesn't really disappoint but rarely shines, it does suggest that Bombay Bicycle Club have a promising future.